


ATOMIC, benny watts

by timeforariotghoul



Category: The Queens Gambit, queens gambit
Genre: Chess, Chess Metaphors, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28296945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeforariotghoul/pseuds/timeforariotghoul
Summary: Vivienne Bernard can't seem to get away from chess, and seems to get pulled back into the world she ran away from by her childhood friend, Arthur Levertov.Even if it starts up in a New York basement playing speed chess with a blonde wannabe" cowboy by the name of Benny Watts.(Benny Watts Fanfic.)I do not own any of the characters except for Vivienne.
Relationships: Benny Watts/Original Female Character(s), Benny Watts/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	1. introduction

Growing up, Vivienne agreed on _nothing_ with her family, from clothing to music, to well, anything. Except for when she was about _seven._

It had been late at night, her father having a guest over for drinks still, now in their parlor, the lights dimmed and mainly relying on the fireplace and its roaring flames for light.

Occasionally, from her hiding place behind one of the big armchairs she could hear the clinking of glasses and light conversation about whatever it was they were doing.

It wasn't work.

It was a game.

She could tell even from there, even as they were faced away from her. The little table revealed it to her, and so for what felt like _hours_ she sat there and watched, patiently trying to pick up the game and understand what the two men were doing.

_Until a maid found her._

And pulled her out of her hiding spot, causing for an interruption in what her father had been doing.

The game without a name that had managed to captivate her attention for so long.

_"She's been hiding behind the chair, again!" the maid said exasperatedly, leading her over in front of the two seated men._

_"For how long?" Her father asked "She's been unusually quiet." He notes, looking towards his friend, who chuckles._

_"Why, I'd say a few hours. No one knew where she was!" The maid exclaims._

_"Hours?" He looks down at Vivienne curiously, a grin sliding onto his face before looking at the chess board. "Did you find the game interesting dear?"_

_She nodded her head before asking "What is it called?"_

_The two men exchange a laugh before he answers her. "It's called chess. Have you figured any of it out yet?"_

_She shrugs unsurely, and the maid seems to be getting irritated. "We can continue this tomorrow. She needs her rest Sir."_

_"Nonsense. Let her stay and learn. Surely it couldn't hurt." He then motioned for her to pull up a chair._

And so, she did.

Chess, as it turned out, made the gears in her head click. Chess, didn't drive her crazy like any of the activities her mother tried to make her do.

It came quickly and easy, especially as the two men explained it to her, as well as what the best moved to be made were. Soon enough, she was playing and beating both of them.

It took a few hours, but she had got the hang of it and couldn't understand why they looked so bewildered. It was a game, as simple as checkers or bridge even. Just a game.

But it was late, the time on the clock read nearly 3 when the latest game had finished.

_"My god. Look at the time. You should run along to bed now." Her father says lightly, beginning to pack the pieces away._

_"Will we play again?" She asks hopefully_

_"Absolutely."_

Satisfied with the answer, she trots down the hall and out of the room before scurrying off to the stairwell, tired, but more or less just ready for the next day.

Leaving the two men to their conversation once again, this time, actually alone.

_"She's a clever one. Could go far with that." The friend says, motioning down to the chess board._

_"I see that now. We'd previously thought she lacked the attention span to do anything remotely intelligent." It was blunt, but the truth._

_"Get her a few books, maybe a teacher. Maybe put her in competitions." He suggests_

_"Those are things? Competitions?" Her father wrinkles his nose._

_"Yes. They have prize money too and awards. Lots of attention and good publicity, I know you've been looking for that." The friend trails off._

_"Of course. I'm just not sure what, well Amelie would think. She's very.."_

_"Old fashioned?" The friend jokes, mentioning Vivienne's mother and his friend's wife._

_"Yes. But either way. I'd like to encourage Vivienne in the right direction. Something her siblings fail to do."_

The conversation ended there, and soon enough in the days that followed, after school and the usual chit chat, chess was _all_ Vivienne spent time doing, per the request of her father.

At first her mother had been hesitant with it, not thinking of it as a very ladylike thing for a girl to do, afraid that the neighbors would talk about it in disdain. But once she'd seen her daughter play, and _win._ It became more easier for her to accept.

Her first teacher had quit within a few days, leading to the next being hired, who ended up quitting saying " _it was impossible to teach someone who consistently beat him."_

And recommended she start playing in competitions immediately.

And keep reading.

So, for the next year, she read more, studied more, and kept herself busy with chess and all that, ignoring whatever phases her siblings found themselves going through.

But she did watch her eldest brother with curiosity, hearing the bluesy records he found keep on from his room, and occasionally catch the smoke from his cigarettes drifting out his window when she was out playing on the grounds.

And found _both_ of them almost as intoxicating as chess was for her.

Her first chess competition occurred when she was around 8 years old, all of her family accompanying her, including her eldest brother ( _despite the no smoking policy)_ and watched as she destroyed grown adults by the dozen.

_AND,_ meet her first friend.

His name was Arthur Levertov, and he was 10 years old. Both were curious to see someone around their age at a chess competition. But for him, it was curious to see a girl.

Especially one that beat him.

In less than 25 moves.

When the whole competition finished, Vivienne _being declared the winner,_ he approached her and wanted to talk about their game. By the end of the discussion they had shook hands _again,_ exchanged telephone numbers and addresses, deciding they liked one another enough to be friends.

The two children had similar experiences at competitions, often being marveled at for their age and compared to other young players around the world, whom they'd never even heard of at that point.

Vivienne often enjoyed the attention, it made her feel more special at home and made her feel better about the fact that her whole life, was chess, especially now that she had her own trophies lining the walls at home, besides the hundreds of accomplishments made before her.

By the time Vivienne was 15 and Arthur was 17, they had made names for themselves in the chess world, ranked as high leveled opponents with the titles to boot. In fact, Vivienne had managed to be recognized as the _second best English player_ at the moment.

Arthur was around fourth.

But that never drove a rift in their friendship, the two were happy as friends and that was that.

When Vivienne turned 20 and Arthur turned 22, they had hit very different paths in their lives. While Arthur was on his way to becoming a _grandmaster,_ Vivienne seemed to have her mind elsewhere.

For after nearly 12 years of playing chess back and forth, she'd realized _there had been nothing else_ in between. Vivienne had missed out on what most teenagers did, and pulled herself away from chess, saying she needed a break.

Right before she could've reached the same level of achievement Arthur had. Although, she could've had it _years ago_ he claimed, saying that older people in chess could often be stuck up.

Either way, she'd flung herself in the direction of her eldest brother's interests. The British Music Scene. And almost instantly found herself entangled with some of the most _popular acts of the time._

This is what had driven a rift between Arthur and Vivienne, her " _liberation"_ from Chess. Even though she was gifted and wise beyond her years at it, Vivienne had turned to hate it at the moment, as she had no memories of anything other than chess at the moment.

So, for the first half of the 60's she threw herself into good old rock n roll, hanging out and befriending musicians everywhere, even learning to play guitar. Going to music festivals and watching performers in awe, even going to New York on a whim for Bob Dylan, there was _still_ a pull for her to play chess.

Six years had gone by and she was longing to come back.


	2. a chance encounter

It had been some bar in the East Side, and I was dressed _impeccably_ well for once. Coming to New York had been one of the best and worst decisions I had ever made. The best, because it had been at the invitation of Bob Dylan _and_ I remembered liking it when I had come for a competition as a kid.

Chess. My most confusing relationship, the very thing that had dominated my childhood.

I'd never managed to get away from it, as people _still_ seemed to recognize me as the " _kiddie chess whiz"_ in England, or with the musicians I had befriended, specifically _The Rolling Stones,_ had dawned me as "Queenie" instead of Viv.

In the six years between the last competition I won, sure I had kept playing, but my opponents had _always_ been drunk or drunken rockstars and their pals, or a roadie even.

It was nothing like the thrill playing with anyone, or even Arthur gave me.

Speaking of which, I'd missed him.

My closest friend from the time I had been eight, and I were not speaking. Purely because of what we had said to one another. Not wanting to get into specifics, it had to do with how _he felt_ I was ruining my life, and how _I wanted_ a break from chess.

My hands at that point couldn't even pick up a pawn without feeling tired, or forced to play.

The sport had become dull to me, and I did what all _great athletes did,_ take a break. Only my break came before one of my most important matches, the one that would've easily made my career.

But I opted to skip it.

And didn't tell anyone.

However, that all seemed like eons ago. Taking a sip of my drink, I tap my heel on the rim of the stool I'm sitting on, turning to the person next to me, spotting an issue of _Chess Review_ in his hands. A magazine I hadn't even bothered picking up or reading in years, mainly because I didn't want to see Arthur in it and feel even worse about where we stood.

Now, turning to examine the person reading it, I couldn't tell much.

He looked nice and proper, sleek black hair and a light brown cashmere sweater, the glass next to him was half full and appeared to be some sort of gin. Although, before I get another glance, he looks up, making eye contact with me.

"You play?" The man asks, a friendly grin on his face, placing his issue of the magazine down on the table.

"Kinda." I return the grin, taking a short sip from my glass before setting it down on the counter.

"What are the odds? Three chess players in one bar, and _two of them are British!"_

I raise an eyebrow "British? Really who? It isn't you is it?"

"God no, it's my pal. Maybe you know him?"

"Maybe I've beat him." I joke, poking fun at the whole situation.

He laughs "So you're good at it? Got a name by any chance? Maybe he's heard of you."

"Vivienne Bernard, but you, can call me Viv." I offer a hand towards him, which he shakes and then laughs a bit "Hey, I think I have heard of you. Couple years back."

"Probably. That was considered my _prime."_ I do quotation makes with my fingers, which causes us both to laugh.

"Hilton Wexler, nice to meet you. Here, I've got one more person for you." He turns back towards the other side of the bar, where a brunette with slightly long hair is talking up a girl, fidgeting with his button up.

"Arthur! Come here! We've got another chess player here."

His head shoots up at the simple mention of the word chess, away from the girl and looks over the bar counter, where we are seated.

Our eyes meet by chance, and he gapes a little, turning back to the girl in question and I assume, _apologizes_ as he gets up and makes his way over to the two of us.

"Viv? _How_ is that you?" He asks.

"Easy. I'm here for a break. Staying with a friend. You know how England can be."

"Yeah. I do." He is still standing in between Hilton and I, so I decide to move down one, allowing for him to sit down between the two of us.

"You two know one another?" He asks curiously, leaning down on the counter, in order to have a view of all of us.

Arthur looks uncomfortably towards the ground and then back in my direction. "Viv and I go _way back._ Met when I was ten at her first competition, beat the shit out of me. And probably still could."

"Really?" He looks slightly impressed and raises an eyebrow "Damn, I've seen maybe two people defeat the Great Grandmaster Levertov before. I've _got_ to see that again."

Arthur sighs, "Good luck with that. Viv here, has taken a sabbatical from chess." He rolls his eyes. 

"I needed to rest competitively. Doesn't mean I stopped playing."

There's a bit of tension between the two of us for a second, just before Hilton goes to break it up "You should get back in the game. It's picking up now, especially with girls cause of Beth Harmon."

"Beth Harmon?" I question, tilting my head to the side, which causes Arthur to laugh a bit, knowing how no matter _how I studied,_ remembering names always seemed to slip through my head.

"As I said, Viv's been out of the loop."

"Interesting. Say, this might seem odd and all, but how'd you like to come play chess with a few _talented_ people tomorrow night?"

Arthur perks up a bit, hoping the answer is a yes, and that maybe my extended break is over. Which I wasn't sure about. Yet. Either way, a few games to help me back on my instincts couldn't hurt.

"What level are we talking?" Just wanting to get a feel for who I'd be going against.

"The current US champion, and an ex US Champion then you've got Hilton and I. Who I have no doubt you'll beat with ease."

I think about it for a second and then nod my head. "Sure. I'm in. I need practice anyways." The two smile for a couple seconds, and I watch as Hilton goes to scribble something down on the table of contents page in the magazine.

"Here. Take it, read up. Maybe you'll find a little bit out about who we're hanging out with tomorrow." Hilton hands me the magazine and winks, which Arthur seems to notice, as he nudges him on the arm.

I look at Arthur for a few seconds and say "Arthur, can I talk to you for a moment?"

It startles him. Either way, he agrees, following me to a corner of the room, where I sigh, starting what I guess was an apology. "I'm sorry. You _were_ right. I made a mistake."

He shrugs "You were also right. Turns out, I also needed a break from Chess. So I had _no room_ to judge you."

"Can we move on from this? It's been so long and if I'm being honest, I've missed our friendship." I admit.

He nods his head "Absolutely. Oh! Let me warn you about tomorrow night. Benny Watts? He's a _shark._ Will probably want to play speed chess, likes to gamble. So bring cash."

I snicker "Is that what America's chess scene has turned to? Gamblers?"

"He's a shark. Beats me every-time."

"I beat you every time."

Arthur groans. "But I'm a grandmaster."

"You realize that could've been me too. Right?"

"Okay. Now you're going to ruin my mood. I'll see you tomorrow night. Feel free to bring a friend, or booze. The more the merrier."

"Right. See you then."

And with that he walks off, to join Hilton and the female he had been talking to previously. Leaving me for the night, with my newly gifted chess magazine and a night to wake up whatever skills I'd left behind.

Oh. _And to convince Bob he needed to come watch me play chess._


	3. wannabe cowboy

Convincing Bob to come along had probably been the hardest thing I'd ever done, due to the fact he was the most antisocial man I'd ever met. And somehow, he let me crash in his New York home for free.

Well, the cost was me having to lay around, and occasionally try around to be some sort of writing inspiration for whatever he was working on.

To be honest, the only bad thing about living with him was the singing. To me, it sounded like insane screeching or intelligible lyrics, but at the right place and time, it was beautiful. Which was why so many people liked it I guess.

Besides, I knew I drove him crazy by entertaining guests/him by playing chess, or trying to get him to play at least. So it was fair.

"Are they music nuts? Because Viv. I do not want to hang out with a bunch of fans for the night." He groans, setting the acoustic he'd been fiddling with down, as I plop down onto the sofa.

"Arthur is not. But I don't know about the rest." I say, admitting that I knew absolutely nothing about anyone.

"How did you get invited then?"

"They want to see me play chess..With them?" 

This causes him to groan loudly as he then says "You didn't say they were chess crazies too."

"They're just people who play, you could probably join in." That was a lie. They'd have Bob knocked out in minutes.

"Don't lie. Besides, I wouldn't want to play anyways."

"Will you just go? I really don't want to go alone." I whine, starting to grow irritated with what he was saying.

He thinks about it, sits quietly for a few minutes and nods his head before saying "Fine. I'll hang out with you and the chess crazies. But there better be booze and some decent LSD."

"Deal. Only you're going to be the one in charge of the LSD bud." I pat him on the shoulder before standing up, satisfied and heading down to my bedroom, when I hear him call out once again.

"Wait a damn minute! Two days from now, you've gotta come with me to some club and do a bit of musing before then. Seem fair right?"

I sigh. "Fine. That's fair."

"Great." He sends a smile before immediately turning back to his guitar, so I take my cue to leave, heading to my room and pulling out the Chess Review magazine that Hilton had given me. 

Flipping through the pages, I start to see a lot of changes from the last time I'd been in a competitive match. Finally, I dawned upon the girl that Hilton had mentioned to me earlier in the night.

Elizabeth, or Beth, Harmon.

Reading over the article that had been printed, I was thoroughly amazed by the ability she had and managed to keep throughout everything in her life. But mainly by how decisive and noteworthy her attacks were.

And now it seemed she was off to Paris, as she'd taken the title of the US CHAMPION from another familiar name, Benny Watts, the gambler that Arthur had me going to see with him tomorrow.

What a crowd.

I couldn't help but laugh thinking about how weird tomorrow might be.

A whole clan of raging chess players and Bob Dylan. Almost sounded like it could be some type of television program. Either way I managed to fall asleep quickly, too excited at the thought of getting to spend hours playing chess with qualified opponents. People who weren't just bored on the road, and it was a miracle.

The next morning had gone by painfully slow, with Bob having to make several pots of coffee, working on songs for a new album, while I lounged around the apartment, trying to keep myself busy, eventually playing myself in a game of chess.

Something that always managed to irritate Bob beyond everything else.

"Aren't you going to be playing enough later?" He asks exasperatedly, peering over his notes and music pads.

"Couldn't you do all of this in studio, especially the wailing?"

"Snappy today, aren't we?"

"Only for you." He grimaces before turning back to his work, carefully sliding his fingers along the strings and doing a few very random and out of place downstrokes.

"Stop. I can't focus." I say, about to hurl a pawn at him.

"You can play elsewhere you know? And besides, this-" he points to his guitar "This is how we pay the bills."

"Chess pays nicely too." I grumble

"How is that?" He asks, furrowing his eyebrows confusedly.

"Competitions. Used to get a lot of money playing at them. It adds up after 12 years of traveling." 

"How much?"

"Really? That's your takeaway?"

"Humor me."

"Fine." I turn away from my game and look towards him "The nicer ones in Europe, or anywhere out of the states, they pay hundreds upon thousands."

"To play chess?" He says, as if it sounded completely unbelievable.

"Yes. I won about $600 at my first competition. Added nicely to my family's accomplishments." I say jokingly.

"I can play a silly game for a couple hours and get more than $600 bucks? Wait till the junkies at the clubs hear about that."

"It's not silly."

"Really? Explain to me how it's not." And he put his guitar down, coming over to where I was sitting and taking the seat across from me, looking at my already started game.

"I want the black pieces." He says, swiftly grabbing all of them and pulling them in his direction.

"Hey! You messed my game up."

"So? I need to learn. Especially if I'm walking into the lions den tonight."

"I really hope you're not trying to play anyone tonight because you'll lose, badly. Hell, I'm going to lose."

"Aren't you good at it?"

"Yes. But I haven't planned anyone who's good at it in about 6-7 years now."

"None of those British fucks can play? Not even Jagger? What a shame!" He muses. "That's one more thing I can do, that he cannot."

"You're an odd one, you do know that right?" I say as I rearrange my own white pieces, so we could start over.

"And you have an accent."

I ignore this and keep talking "Do I need to explain how this works, or do you have a general understanding of the game?"

Bob lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag off of it before passing it to me and says "I get most of it I think. I tend to watch you when I'm bored. And I accidentally read one of your weird books once."

I sigh, smoking the cigarette before handing it back to him, starting off the game, now watching him sit there for an unreasonable amount of time.

"You'd be disqualified by now." He wouldn't. But it would've annoyed anyone at how long it was taking him.

Finally, he just copies what I had done, which causes me to groan.

"Really? That's your strategy?"

"I may have exaggerated my skill level by a bit."

"Again, you think you're playing tonight?"

"Not anymore." He plops the cigarette down into the ashtray and says "I'm bored with this anyways, what's the dress code for tonight?"

"How about not wearing the same dirty clothes you've had on for two days?"

"Good one. And maybe I'll oblige your request."

With that he stalks down the hall, heading to his own bedroom, probably to go clean up and then pick up his promised goodies for tonight. Judging by the crowd it seemed we were with, maybe there'd be some leftover stuff. I wasn't sure.

Could have a wildcard on my hands. Maybe not.

Either way, by the time 9:00 had rolled around, we'd piled into Bob's car, two brown paper bags in hand along with a couple chess sets and headed over towards the mystery guys house.

"You sure we aren't getting murdered?" Bob asks "I'm not trying to be a has been yet."

"Arthur has no motive to kill me. Besides we've known one another for years."

"You act like that means anything. You know New York is a fucking weird place."

"Yeah. But you're forgetting, Arthur's English."

"And since when do English people not murder?"

I sigh, leaning back against the car seat "Fair point."

Eventually, we'd pulled into a nice area, with nice, good looking townhomes, and I felt thoroughly impressed that maybe Bob was wrong, and we weren't, well, going to be killed tonight while playing chess.

So as we parked, reading the numbers, I started walking up the stairs while Bob started walking down. "Hey genius, it's on the bottom. He's got the basement." He snickers, starting to knock on the door.

Okay. Maybe I'd spoken too soon.

Following Bob down to the bottom, we stand outside the door for a minute, before Arthur opens it, as he does, I'm hit in the face with the bubbling small talk in the room.

"Viv! Glad you could make it, and you brought a friend?" He questions.

"Oh god. Another Brit." Bob moans, pulling a bottle out of one of the bags, "Jesus I'm going to need a drink to get through all this."

Arthur looks at me confusedly. "That's my roommate. Bob Dylan. And he's very eccentric. A Musician type."

This Arthur seems to understand as he nods, before ushering me inside, looking inside the scarily blank room, I see a few people inside.

Hilton, the female from the bar last night, what appeared to be Beth Harmon, Bob searching for a bottle opener and the midst of it all, was a tall, dirty blonde, but dusty man. His eyes were bitch black and reminded me almost of coal.

"Levertov, over here for a minute. Did you kidnap Bob Dylan?" The man says, his voice sounds playful, yet laced with confusion. "And you didn't tell me you were bringing two ladies along tonight."

Arthur rolls his eyes "This, is my good friend Vivienne Bernard. However, she prefers to be called Viv. Bob, is her friend whom I've never met."

"Do you have a bottle opener or not." Bob snaps, turning around.

The blonde man, who I'm assuming to now be Benny, holds a finger up to Bob, which causes him to groan disappointedly. Then, his gaze turns to me. "Bernard? Could've sworn I've heard that before. You play chess?"

"Competitively for twelve years. Stopped playing six years ago. Recently decided to hop out of my retirement."

"She any good?" He asks Arthur, not removing his gaze on me.

"Plenty. Viv's been beating me and practically all of England since we were kids."

A new voice joins the fray and it seems to be the one belonging to Beth Harmon, who seems pleased that another female, especially one who played chess and was apparently good, entered the room.

"I've heard of you. Didn't you skip the match that would've made you a grandmaster?"

Arthur snorts before looking up at the ceiling.

"Yes. I did."

"You skipped that? Why the hell would anyone skip that?" Benny says exasperatedly.

"I realized my whole life was dependent on chess. And I didn't like that." I say quietly, shrugging my shoulders.

"Look how that turned out. Six years and you're already bored. So that makes you, what? In your 20's?" He trails off, and I catch him looking me over.

Oh god.

"I'll be twenty six in June." I shrug, before seeing Hilton and the other female turn around and look at the conversation everyone else was having. 

The woman, the closer I looked, got more and more sophisticated, what I would consider to honestly be the height of fashion, plus, her eyeliner was to die for. Knowing my usual crowd of people, she looked like someone Brian Jones would die for.

Then she spoke, turns out she's French. "Benny, when will you learn to not be so shameless?" Her eyes rest on me for a moment before coming to greet me.

"You must be Viv. Arthur spoke fondly of you." She laughs a bit, before looking at the items in my hand. As she peaks into the bag, she grins a bit "How kind of you to think of us."

Hilton seems confused "If he has the drinks, what's in that bag?"

"Is it not obvious? Bob Dylan brought party favors and we're gonna have to turn down the use of them tonight."

"Why's that?" He calls out grumpily from the over side of the room, now sitting in a chair with an obnoxious cowboy hat on.

"HEY! Give that back." Benny says angrily, walking over and snatching the hat off of his curly haired head. "Tonight is for Beth. We're helping her get ready for Paris."


	4. speed chess

Bob and I were standing rather _awkwardly_ in the corner of the kitchen while Beth and Cleo were preparing the food or whatever, out of the corner of my eye, I found myself watching the conversation between Hilton, Arthur and Benny.

"You didn't tell me that I couldn't get high." Bob mutters harshly, nursing his now _full_ glass to his lips, chugging down some of his alcohol once more.

"How was I supposed to know? I've never met these people." I say in a hushed voice.

"You could've called." He groans, going to the counter to refill his glass, at this rate he'd be drunk by the time we left to go home. And a drunk Bob could _never_ make it up the stairs.

"Drink your juice and be quiet." I say, gesturing for him to go and follow everyone else over to the little makeshift coffee table.

We sit next to one another, taking our seats on the floor, beside one another.

"Great. Now that we have everyone. Let's do a simultaneous." Benny says, his eyes falling on Beth's directly.

Did they have something going on?

I didn't know them well enough to ask, but based off the tension between them, it kinda felt like it. And from the looks of it, both Arthur and Bob had managed to pick up on it.

And if we were playing a simultaneous with Beth? I was going to be _obliterated_ completely. There was no way I'd ever be able to beat her.

Really.

There wasn't.

Bob nudges me and whispers "What does that mean?"

Benny glares at him "it means, that Beth here, plays _all of us."_

Cleo interjects "Er, not me. I don't even know the rules." And she settles down into her seat, _Bob looks her over_ for about five seconds before deciding he's not going to bother playing either.

"Same here, say, what was your name again?"

"Stop it." I hiss towards him, watching as he lit up one of his cigarettes. The last thing I wanted was Bob embarrassing me in front of a bunch of chess players and a French model.

"Cleo. And I guess we'll spectate." She winks in his direction, which causes him to chuckle a bit, before he leans in and whispers in my ear "Bob Dylan never fails to win.."

Beth rolls her eyes, looking at Benny once again. "Well, do we even have enough boards? Enough pieces?"

He nods "Yeah, in the closet-"

"I brought one of my boards." I add calmly, gesturing to the pristine looking board sitting on the kitchen counter where I had put it.

"Great. We can set them up _all here_ on the floor." He adds, clapping his hands together eagerly.

Beth seems unsure for a few seconds, but then finally agrees to it, giving a simple okay as an answer.

Hilton interjects "Time control?" He asks, just wanting to give himself a fleeting chance against the monster of a player that was Beth Harmon.

"Let's play speed chess." She says, not bothering to look towards anyone else other than Benny.

Had this not been the goal the whole time? I thought I'd been invited here to play speed chess. I had quite literally brought a whole stack of cash just because of it. Or had Arthur lured me here to meet his pals?

Because it was starting to seem like that.

"That'll give us an edge, we can think on your time.." Benny says shrugging

This was more or less starting to feel like I was caught up in the two's personal drama and business. To be honest, I didn't know what the fuck was going on between the two of them. I turn to Arthur, mouthing " _what's going on?"_

And I only get a just as confused shrug in response. Great.

"Mhm. I wanna try it." Her nose scrunches up a bit, and I can't help but to yawn, starting to grow irritated with the back and forth. I mean seriously, I had come to play chess.

"Yeah but you're not so good at that, remember?" He whips around to look at me and says "Sure you should play? Wouldn't want Beth kicking your ass too badly would we?"

"Oh no, I'm great. Just tired of hearing your mindless and desperate attempts at flirting." I groan, picking up my own drink and saying "I came to play chess, not watch a soap opera."

Hilton and Cleo both chuckle, and I know Bob is stomaching back his usual laugh.

Benny however goes silent, not saying anything for a moment, and now avoiding eye contact with me. So Beth takes the opportunity to raise the takes. "I'll bet ten I can beat you."

He was a gambler, so he hesitated for a moment before saying "What if you throw the other games to focus on me?"

"What if I kick you in the crotch?" She says, which causes Bob to nearly _fall over,_ and everyone else besides Benny to laugh.

"I like her." Bob says, clapping his hands together generously. "You're almost as funny as Viv over here." He snickers again.

"Can we please get on with the games?" Arthur asks, starting to grow uncomfortable with the whole ordeal.

"I'll bet ten on the three of them too." Beth adds quickly, gesturing towards Arthur, Hilton and I.

"Okay...that's your money."

"It will be."

I didn't know what was so infuriating about watching his all, maybe it was the fact that I felt like I was watching two people who desperately needed to fuck someone amble around chess as if it was chutes and ladders.

"Let's play. _Please."_ I say, standing up to and grab my chessboard from the counter, while everyone else begins to set up for the game as well.

And soon enough we were off, Beth starting with Arthur, then Hilton, Me and finally Benny. I almost messed myself up, _on the first move,_ only I managed to recover, choosing the pawn that seemed more reasonable.

Hilton was first down, stumped with how she'd managed to beat him so quickly.

 _Then,_ down went Arthur, I wasn't quite surprised with that one, although I'd expected it to be either him or me.

So now, it was between Benny and I.

More time passes, and I'd gotten _so_ caught up in the drama with my remaining bishop, I literally let my guard down, allowing Beth to gain access to my king once and for all.

"Good game." She says, smirking a bit. "You lasted longer than I thought." She whispers before quickly going to pounce onto Benny once more.

Although, she still emerges victorious, and Benny works over $40 to her.


End file.
